Old Habits Die Hard
by Snampoo
Summary: When an old face makes a reappearance in Dean's life, everything he thought he once knew will come crashing down. Destiel. High School AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey! So... this is my first ever Supernatural fic and, as luck would have it, I'm British, so I have tried to use Americanisms (i.e. 'Mom' rather than 'Mum') to as SPN's American, but I have stuck to British spellings due to personal preference. I do not in any way own Supernatural and its characters, nor do I own 'Heat of the Moment' by Asia. Thanks, and please review to tell me what you think :)**

* * *

><p>"Dean. <em>DEAN<em>! _Get up_!" said the voice in Dean's ear. From the audible pre-pubescent squeakiness, he guessed it was Sammy.

"What the hell, Sammy? I was asleep!" Dean muttered angrily whilst turning his body to face the peeling wall beside him.

"Dean, it's 8:30! I'm gonna be late, AGAIN!" Sam exclaimed anxiously.

"Oh fuck. Why didn't you wake me up earlier?"

"I thought you'd already be awake!"

"Shit okay, sorry dude, just let me get dressed and I'll meet you downstairs in five." With that, Sam stormed out and left Dean alone to his thoughts. Little Sammy was growing up so quickly that Dean could hardly believe he was already at his moody teenager phase. Hell, he wasn't even a teenager yet, but Sam had always acted older than his age. It was unsurprising, Dean thought, when you looked back upon his life so far. When Sammy was just six months old, their Mom had died in a car accident. She'd been taking Sam to the doctors' for a check-up, when a car came out of nowhere and swerved right into the driving seat, instantly killing Mary and leaving Sammy in a critical condition for several months. Sam eventually recovered, but John could never see eye-to-eye with him again. Once Sammy had gotten better, John's attention shifted from making sure his son was okay, to inwardly blaming him for his wife's death. John didn't know his sons had realised this, but how couldn't they, when John seemed to applaud Dean on all his successes, yet treat Sam like a disappointment to his wife's memory every time he tried to do something right.

At that, Dean snapped out of his thoughts with a sigh and stumbled around his room for some clothes. His wardrobe was a mess and, despite his appearance usually being one of the only things Dean outwardly gave a damn about, he ended up just dragging on whatever clothes he could find on his bedroom floor.

"Come on, let's go Sammy." Dean said as he came down the stairs and ushered Sam out of the door.

"Aren't you gonna have any breakfast?" Sam asked concernedly.

"S'fine, I'll get something from the vending machines at school." Dean replied nonchalantly, swinging into the driver's side of his Dad's '67 Chevy Impala. Dean was supposed to wait until he was eighteen to be able to use his Dad's treasured vehicle, but John stopped caring about those sorts of things a long time ago.

* * *

><p>The drive was silent, apart from the loud thumping which was emanating from the stereo as Dean sang along to Asia's 'Heat of the Moment'. Sam had probably heard this song over a hundred times and had hated it every single instance. It reminded Sam horribly of his father's music, which was of a very similar style to Dean's. He noted that the only time John played his rock music was when he was drunk.<p>

"Got everything?" Dean asked as he pulled up just outside the middle school.

"Yeah, thanks." Sam replied, stumbling out of the car whilst slinging his battered backpack upon his shoulder.

"'Kay, see ya later," Dean told him, before driving off in the direction of the high school. Dean didn't know why he was even going to school today. He had no reason to; his Dad was out of town, he had no work due in and it was a fine, sunny day. But in reality, he had nothing better to do and truancy was, after all, illegal.

So, Dean found himself in his school's parking lot. He was ten minutes late, but present all the same. He locked up the Impala and inspected his clothing in its reflection. He was wearing an old pair of sneakers, his favourite denim jeans, Sammy's amulet, an old black Pink Floyd tee (a.k.a. his 'stoner' tee, not that his family knew this) and a navy plaid shirt. Despite his hurried dressing only a half hour earlier, he looked pretty good. He'd forgotten his trademark leather jacket, but that wasn't even his anyway, so what did it matter. He guessed his 'bad boy' image could be compromised for just one day. Besides, he had the whole 'just woken up' look that the chicks seemed to dig to make up for it.

With that thought on his mind, Dean strode into school, a confident smile interrupting his face. It was rare that he felt this jovial, but he was going to embrace it nevertheless. Dean continued in this mood as he walked down the corridor to his classroom for registration. However, as soon as he opened the door to the room, he realised that his awful timing had once again made its mark this morning.

"Sorry I'm la-," Dean began, striding into the room.

"Mr. Winchester! What do you think you're doing, intruding on registration without knocking first!" Miss. Grayson demanded. She wasn't usually this strict about these sorts of things, Dean pondered.

"Hello? Earth to Dean? I was trying to introduce the class to a new student when you very rudely interjected."

"Wh- a new student?" and at that moment, Dean's eyes fell upon a rather small looking teenage boy who was standing awkwardly next to Miss. Grayson. Immediately he felt guilty. If his dress sense and timid but determined demeanour were anything to go by, this kid was a straight-up Mommy's boy; 'I mean, what sort of kid these days wears a _trench coat_?' Dean wondered. But there was something about this boy; his presence was almost ethereal in its nature; broken only by the piercing blue eyes which seemed to dominate his stature. For some inexplicable reason, Dean couldn't shake off the strange feeling of familiarity that he felt when looking at the boy. He was fascinating.

"Oh, uh…," Dean was almost lost for words; a rare occurrence, "um, sorry I'll just, uh, sit down then," he stuttered uncomfortably as he made his way to his desk at the back of the room.

"No, Dean, I think you'll be sitting at the front today. I can't have you disrupting my lessons any further by any inevitable chit-chatting with your friends," said Miss. Grayson, smiling smugly to herself as if she'd just cracked the enigma code. Dean glared at her, but was far too distracted by this new student to try dispute her order. She seemed disheartened by this.

"Anyway," she continued as Dean took one of the vacant front seats, "as I was saying, we have a new student today, would you like to tell us a little about yourself?" she gestured to the boy.

"Uh, hi. I- uh I'm sixteen and I'm from Massachusetts but I've moved around a lot. So… yeah," he said, glancing nervously at Miss Grayson, who stared at him expectantly, "Oh, and I almost forgot," he continued clumsily, "my name is Castiel."

'CRAP!' Dean thought. It couldn't be, could it? _The _Castiel? Surely not?! But then again, it wasn't exactly a common name, and the kid did seem kind of familiar. But how could it be? And how come he didn't appear to recognise him?

"Castiel _what_?" a kid at the back asked.

"Uh, Novak," he replied, slightly taken aback, "Castiel Novak."

Shit. It was him, alright.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own neither Supernatural nor Bad Company. I hope you guys enjoy the chapter and please review :)**

* * *

><p>It was an excruciating first period as Dean tried to figure out if Castiel knew who he was. Despite Cas being seated on the desk next to Dean, there was no direct eye contact made between the pair. It was a truly bizarre situation; Dean hadn't seen this boy since the Novaks had moved away from the neighbourhood eleven years ago, when Dean was six. But Dean didn't even live in that place anymore. In fact, he'd relocated approximately five times since. When he and Castiel had been neighbours, they were living in Charlotte, North Carolina. Dean had since lived in Alabama, South Dakota, Arizona, Michigan and now Truman, Minnesota. The fact that Castiel just happened to be here after all these years seemed like an impossible coincidence.<p>

As the bell finally rang to symbol the end of the lesson, Dean was at last able to grab his chance to talk to Castiel in the intermittent time between periods. "Castiel! Hey, Cas!" he shouted determinedly across the corridor. When Cas finally turned around, Dean was surprised to see an expression of reluctant recognition on his face.

"Um, Hi Dean," he muttered, an embarrassed grimace curling around his features.

"So you remember me then?" Dean asked, exasperated and slightly confused.

"Of course I do," he replied sincerely.

"Well that's great, so why then did you just ignore me for that whole last period?"

"I-I- uh, well I may or may not have known in advance that you attend this school."

"What?"

"I saw your Dad's Impala in the parking lot through the window before you came into the classroom. I knew instantly that it must be you, because it still has the same registration and your Dad would never sell it."

"Oh, well okay, that makes sense I guess. But you didn't answer my question; why were you ignoring me?" Dean continued as the two boys walked down the hallway.

"I'm sorry, Dean. It's just… it feels kind of awkward. You know, after everything that happened," Cas sighed resignedly.

"Oh," Dean nodded, realising what Castiel was referencing, "but Cas, that was eleven years ago, surely your parents have forgotten and moved on by _now_?"

"Excuse me Dean, I must go to Geography now."

"What? But- no, wait! Cas!"

But it was too late; Cas had already turned the corner into the Geography room.

"Dammit," Dean muttered under his breath. There was no way in hell that Castiel was being honest with Dean. Why would his parents still have a problem with what happened? And Dean still didn't know what Castiel was doing here in Minnesota. He knew Cas had moved a lot too, besides, this common feature had been what brought them together as friends in the first place all those years ago. But Cas had changed. He no longer seemed to be that naive, kind and head-strong boy he had been once before. No, Dean thought, something had happened to Castiel Novak. He could see it in his eyes as they had talked; despite their overpowering blue aura, they'd lost their spark, their innocence.

* * *

><p>Dean was unable to find Cas the rest of the day. He must've been hiding out in the toilets, Dean thought as he made his way to the Impala in the parking lot. He then proceeded to rev up the engine and place his Bad Company tape into the cassette player. His music was the only thing providing him with any sanity today. Dean was lost in his thoughts about Castiel's reappearance in his life as he made his way to Sam's school to pick him up. Sure enough, Sam was waiting by the front gate, ready to go. But something was different today. Sam didn't look particularly happy- he looked miserable, which was odd for someone who enjoyed school so much.<p>

"Hey, you okay there, Sammy?" Dean asked as he trudged into the passenger seat.

"_Don't _call me that."

"Huh? But I've always called you Sammy!?" Dean exclaimed, bewildered.

"Yeah, well it's embarrassing. I'm not a little kid anymore, Dean," Sam huffed, looking thoroughly pissed.

"Okay, okay, no need to displace your pre-teen angst onto me. I'm doing you a favour by picking you up, and you'll appreciate that or get out and walk home yourself!"

"Is that supposed to be a threat?" Sam replied sardonically.

"Fine then, see how you like it. Get out."

"Gladly," and with that, Sam hopped out of the car and set off in the direction of their house alone. Dean was in shock. He hadn't expected Sam to actually listen to him. There was definitely something up with that kid, but Dean had other things occupying his mind.

* * *

><p>When Dean arrived home ten minutes later, he was surprised to see a light seeping out from under the living room door. Surely Sam couldn't be back yet? Dean fervently opened the door to find John Winchester, no less, sitting on the couch watching the sports channel. Dean's heart sank when he noticed the glass of whiskey in his hand.<p>

"Dad? I thought you weren't gonna be home for another couple of days?" Dean asked, stepping nervously closer to his father.

"Yeah, well… I came back early. Surprise!" He mumbled, clearly drunk.

"Uh- cool. Oh, and Dad, I hope you don't mind, but I took the Impala out today for school."

"Mmm," he grumbled; too intoxicated to care, "So where's my Sammy-boy, then?" he continued, slurring slightly.

"Uh, he, uh, wanted to walk home."

"Huh? Sam ain't that stupid."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't really up to him. I made him get out the car. Dad, he's been getting real moody recently. I think something may be goin' on up at the school," Dean confided concernedly.

"That's just teenagers for ya, Dean. You'll know when you're older and have kids of your own."

Dean cringed at the thought, "No Dad, I think it's more than that, I-"

"Eh, whatever, I'm sure he's fine. Sam's a smart kid. Don't ya forget that."

"If you say so, Dad," Dean resigned, knowing the conversation couldn't progress any further when John was in this state.

"Oh, and Dad, you'll never guess who joined new at school today," Dean started, deciding to change the topic of discussion.

"Who?" John asked, looking only mildly interested.

"Castiel Novak," Dean said, nodding smugly at his father's astonished expression.

"Seriously?" he questioned.

"Yeah. Crazy, right?"

"Sure is a coincidence if I ever saw one."

At that moment, Dean heard a key turn in the lock of the front door and, a few short seconds later, Sam appeared at the living room doorway, his expression aghast.

"_Dad?_" he mouthed at Dean anxiously.

"_Yep_," Dean mouthed back, before clearing his throat to talk properly, "Uh, Dad, Sam's here."

"Hey there, Sammy-boy! Come give your old man a hug!" said John, placing his glass down on the table and stumbling slightly to his feet. He then proceeded to squeeze tightly Sam, who stood there rather awkwardly, glancing knowingly at the whiskey on the table.

"Dad. You're home early," he said monotonously.

"Yup, ain't it great?!"

"Sure thing, Dad. Uh- I'm gonna go upstairs now- got homework," he replied brusquely, before making a swift exit from the scene. Dean could tell that Sam was not only nervous about his father being home, but also bewildered by the whole hugging situation. John hardly ever showed his sons affection, never mind just Sammy. Must be the alcohol, Dean thought to himself.

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna head up too, Dad, I've got homework too," Dean added in an attempt to excuse himself from the scene.

"That's great, son," John replied with glazed-over eyes, obviously not having listened to a word Dean had just said.

* * *

><p>As soon as Dean reached the solitude of his bedroom, he breathed a harsh sigh of relief. It was strange seeing John act pleasantly while under the influence. Dean couldn't quite get his head around it. Nevertheless, it had been a long day, and all Dean wanted to do was take a nice, comfortable nap. Thus, he flopped onto his bed and let his body sink into the slightly worn-out mattress until he felt suitably enclosed. Man, what a weird day.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Dean woke up and stared at the ceiling, thankful it was Saturday and that he finally had some time to think about everything that had happened the previous day. Dean still couldn't believe that _Castiel Novak_ had made a re-appearance in his life. Even though Cas had been one of many childhood friends, it was him whom Dean remembered the clearest. This was probably because of the incident which drove them apart, thought Dean, but Cas had always felt different to Dean's other friends; the dynamic between them had been so unique and exciting. Dean had never met anyone like him since. It now saddened Dean to think of Castiel's passive reaction to him the day before. He had definitely changed since Dean last saw him eleven years ago.

With a sigh, Dean heaved himself off his bed and dragged his feet as he made his way to the shower. He couldn't just sit around all day; not only was the sun making a prominent appearance, but he had to do something to take his mind off Sam, his Dad and Castiel.

After having showered, he picked out his favourite leather jacket-denim jeans combo and grabbed some toast from the kitchen before hastily leaving so as to avoid any potential questions from his family. It was still early, and the mist-concealed sky was dotted pink. This was, in Dean's opinion, the best part of the day. No-one was awake at home to question his meander, the birds were singing and the neighbourhood was almost completely empty. In spite of Dean's intentions, he couldn't help his mind wandering about what Cas was doing and what he was thinking. So naturally, his feet led him in the direction of the only source of information about Cas that he knew of; the school. Dean was usually in school on Saturdays to serve detention. There was just something about Dean which made him the perfect template on which teachers displaced their inner anger and midlife crises. Admittedly, however, Dean didn't do himself any favours, what with his tendency to prank people and his usual tardiness. Therefore, when Dean strolled into school that morning, no-one even batted an eyelid. Making good use of his knowledge of how school ran on Saturdays, Dean knew that the Principal would be supervising detention; thus leaving his office free for snooping.

Sure enough, when he peeked apprehensively through the glass pane in the Principal's door, his office was deserted and Dean proceeded to swagger into the room triumphantly. Conscious of how little time he had before the Principal would inevitably return, Dean set to work straight away- rummaging through filing cabinets, careful not to leave a folder out of place. However, it didn't take long to locate Cas' file, what with it being at the beginning of the 'New Arrivals- Academic Year 1996-1997' cabinet. Sure, it was thin, but that was only to be expected from someone who'd only just joined the school. Dean began to read:

**Truman High School Pupil Record #10627**

**Name: **Castiel Novak

**Date of Birth: **6th February 1979, Massachusetts

**Health notes: **Cannot participate in gym class due to spinal weakness.

**Family notes: **Lives with mother, Naomi Novak and siblings Gabriel, Luke, Michael and Anna. Information on father unavailable.

**Behavioural record: **Reports of truancy and bad behaviour at previous schools. Suspected problems at home.

**Previous schools: ** Salem Tree Preschool, Massachusetts (1983-1984), Charlotte City Elementary, North Carolina (1984-1985), Richmond Town Elementary, Georgia (1985-1988), Idaho Falls Elementary, Idaho (1988-1991), Waterville Creek Middle School, Maine (1991-1993), Richmond High, Vermont (1993-1996).

**Address: **28 Melrose Avenue,

Truman,

Minnesota.

* * *

><p>Dean was shocked. Where was Castiel's father? He had met him before, so why wasn't there any information about him? Furthermore, he found it hard to believe that goody-two-shoes Castiel Novak would ever misbehave nor have family problems. But the thing that stood out the most to Dean was the Health notes section. He couldn't help but feel a stab of guilt upon reading that. Dean then proceeded to use the Principal's photocopier to recreate the document and he was just about to leave, when something else caught his eye:<p>

**Truman High School Pupil Record #9467**

**Name: **Dean Winchester

**Date of Birth: **24th January 1979, Kansas

**Health notes: **None.

**Family notes: **Lives with father, John Winchester, and brother Samuel. Mother died in car accident when 4 years old.

**Behavioural Record: **Usually late, frequently in detention for bad behaviour and incomplete homework. Allegations of truancy. Strained relationship with father suspected (reported by Miss P. Longcroft after a tense Parent-Teacher night, May 1995).

**Previous schools: **Lawrence Preschool, Kansas (1983-1984), Charlotte City Elementary, North Carolina (1984-1986), Birmingham Grove Elementary, Alabama (1986-1989), Avondale Hill Elementary, Arizona (1989-1991), Detroit River Middle School (1991-1993).

**Address: **John F. Kennedy Drive,

Truman,

Minnesota.

* * *

><p>'<em>Strained relationship'<em>? Heh, took them long enough, Dean thought to himself; unimpressed by the staff's lack of perception. Despite the file not containing anything of particular interest to Dean, he still appreciated the insight into how the teachers at the school viewed him. Dean didn't like thinking about the relationship he had with his father; it brought back too many bad memories from throughout his childhood. He sighed resignedly and put the file back in the cabinet he's first spotted it in. But, as he approached the door to leave, the handle began turning, and in walked the Principal.

"Dean?! What are you doing in here?" he demanded. It was time for Dean to turn his lying charm on.

"Oh, hello there Sir, I was just in the area, y'know, taking my usual Saturday morning stroll, when I remembered that I needed to tell you something," he rambled, adopting a sad, wistful look so as to gain the Principal's sympathy- a mean, but potentially achieveable feat, which appeared to have worked.

The Principal frowned pitifully, "Oh, right, well what is it? Is everything okay Dean?"

"Uh, no, not really. You see, I didn't really know who else to talk to about this…" he trailed off, giving the man his best puppy-dog eyes.

"Well, I do always tell my students that I'm always available to talk. Hmm, okay. Go ahead."

"It's about my father, see, we have a… hmm, how do I put this? Um, we have a _strained relationship._"

"Ah, yes, I had picked up on some of the more obvious symptoms…" sighed the Principal. Dean frowned, wondering what exactly he meant. "You look confused, Dean- let me explain. I have noticed that your father is rarely present at school functions which you attend and that, when he is, he becomes increasingly concerned with the drinks bar and decreasingly concerned with you. If you don't mind me saying, he comes off as a rather moody individual."

Dean no longer felt like he was acting, for this conversation was far more intriguing than he thought it would be.

"Would you say you agree with me, or am I just over-analysing things here?" questioned the Principal, furrowing his brow.

"Uh, yeah, I guess. But he's not always been like this," Dean added hastily, trying to redeem his father slightly, "It all started after my Mom died."

"Oh, yes, of course… How old were you, Dean?"

"Four. Almost five," he replied, reciting an answer which had been rehearsed many times before.

"How terribly tragic. And you think he takes this out on you?"

"Uh, sometimes, I guess. But it's more my little brother who has to put up with him," Dean couldn't believe his was telling all this to his _Principal_ of all people.

"Really? How come?"

"Well, I guess it's 'cause she was taking him to the doctor's for a check-up when she had her accident. Sam survived, so naturally, he took his frustrations out on him. Still does today."

"That's an insightful analysis there, Dean. So tell me, what is it that triggered your visit today of all days, has something happened?" Shit, Dean needed to stop before he made his Dad sound like some sort of child abuser.

"What? Uh- no. I just needed to let it all out. Heh, it's been a long week," he smiled, making to get out of the chair he was sitting in and leave.

"Oh, you're leaving?"

"Yep, sorry Sir, but I've got some errands to run. Thanks for the chat, though!" he replied brusquely, letting his charm take over once more.

"Okay, well any time, Dean," the Principal said, looking utterly confused by what just happened.

* * *

><p>Dean was finally able to breathe again when he exited the school. That was officially the weirdest 10 minutes of his life. Well, apart from having Cas make a reappearance in his life once more. Oh yeah, Cas! He'd almost forgotten the original reason he'd come to school in the first place. As creepy as it may sound, Dean now knew where Cas lived, and he had to somehow use this information to find out more about what Cas had been doing in the last eleven years.<p>

And so, Dean jumped in his car, hit the stereo and set off for Melrose Avenue- a part of town he'd never yet visited, and thus was interested to see what it would be like. Melrose Avenue sounded like one of those places where the stereotypical Momma, Papa and their two darling children lived and enjoyed their apple pie lives in powder-blue panelled cottages with white-picket fences and perfectly-mown lawns.

He was not wrong.

Except, of course, Castiel's 'papa' was no longer around and Dean had no idea why. Furthermore, Cas was one of five, and, according to his file, it sounded like his life hadn't been all that peachy.

Dean pulled up and parked just at the edge of the street; careful not to park near no. 28 for fear that Cas would recognise his car. It was a pleasant area; the sidewalks were overshadowed by leafy, fall-touched trees which swayed peacefully in the wind and there was a small gaggle of kids playing ball outside one of the houses. Yet, Dean hated it. It was exactly what he couldn't have, and for that reason, he despised the whole thing. The conservative, middle-class air of the place made him want to puke. But, what with Castiel's mother being oh-so very traditional, he wasn't surprised.

Dean still didn't quite know why he was here. All he knew was that he needed some answers and that he had no idea how to get them other than coming here. He trundled out of his car and headed straight for the trunk so that he could find and wear his hat, sunglasses and uncharacteristic jacket so as to disguise himself in case Castiel saw him walking down the street. Dean knew he was overreacting somewhat, but the disguise excited him and made him feel as if he were about to embark on some sort of secret agent mission, and he couldn't contain the inner-child which was beginning to take over him.

'I need to get out more,' he thought dryly.

As Dean flattened his usually spiked-up hair, he realised that the only thing that could give away his identity now would be his distinctive bowlegs. But he doubted that anyone would really be paying any attention to those. Dean then made his way to no.28, where he noticed that the driveway was absent of cars and that all the lights were off. Even though it was daytime, most of the other houses on the street had at least one visible light on. Dean concluded that the family must be out.

Score.

Dean approached the fence between the drive and the back yard, and vaulted over it so as to gain access to the back exterior of the property. He then quickly scanned the house and noticed that someone had left a window open on the second floor. Thankfully, the window was above a balcony which ran the length of the back of the house, so Dean began climbing a tree which hung over the balcony gracefully and had just about enough strength to allow Dean to scale his body across it as he climbed. He eventually reached the balcony and managed to to slip inside the open window (only to land on the floor with a thump; spreading dirt all over the carpet.

'Dammit!' he exclaimed as he observed the mess he'd made. Why was he even here, again? Sure, Dean had broken into houses before, but that was for justified reasons, whereas he was only doing this to satisfy his curiosity. But he had gotten this far; he couldn't give up now. As he scanned the room, he saw a collection of cardboard boxes which told Dean that the Novaks' move must have been incredibly recent for them to have not finished unpacking yet. But then again, the owner of this bedroom could just be very lazy or have an affinity for recyclable packaging. Dean approached one of the boxes:

_**Gabe- bedroom- miscellaneous**_

Ah, so this was Gabriel's room. 'How old would he be now?' Dean thought to himself, 'hmm… 19? 20? Something like that.'

Dean made his way out of the room and into the hallway. It was a light, spacious house. Nice. Traditional. So very far from what Dean was used to. He made his first stop into Castiel's room (judging by the labelled boxes) and the first thing he noticed was the blank walls. Whilst Gabriel's room had already been plastered in numerous posters of semi-naked models, pictures of him and his (supposed) girlfriend, and photographs of a collection of bands, Cas' room looked bare and unloved, as if he had no memories of which he was willing to wake up and be reminded of every day. There was, however, a small open box in the corner, which Dean couldn't help but gravitate towards. He sat down against the wall and pulled out the first piece of contents from the box. The object made Dean feel like his lungs had been punctured. It was a tattered photo of Cas with a boy of a similar age. They were smiling at the camera, as the other boy's hand was outstretched to take the photo. Dean turned it over in his hands and read:

"_With Aaron- March 16th 1996"_

So this picture had been taken only six months ago, yet it looked like it had been handled frequently. Who even was this Aaron dude? Was he Castiel's friend or… _more_?

'No. No. No. No. Nooooo. Stop thinking like that,' Dean scorned himself, 'maybe he's just his cousin or something.'

But the two boys didn't look related. Whilst Castiel had short, black hair and astonishingly blue eyes, Aaron had dirty blond hair in a wavy, curtained style and hazel-green eyes. Dean couldn't help but think how attractive Aaron looked.

No.

Stop.

Not this crap again.

Dean tried to ignore the odd feeling of jealousy which was currently creeping through his veins. 'It was nothing,' he reassured himself. He was just feeling anxious about having broken into a house. He proceeded to place the photo back in the box and pull out a heavy object from beneath it. It was a photo album, and a dusty one at that. It must've been at least ten years old.

As he opened it up, a strange feeling of nostalgia and sadness overtook him. The first picture was of none other than himself and Cas. Dean couldn't believe he had looked so young when he'd known Cas as a child. Despite him being six in the photo, he felt as if it could've been taken last week. In fact, he remembered that exact day. He and Cas had spent the whole afternoon playing 'Angels and Demons' (a sort of 'Cops and Robbers' set-up) in a field near their neighbourhood. Then, when they eventually returned back to Dean's house, John took a polaroid of the both of them with their arms on each other's shoulders and their smiles illuminating the dusky background. John had been in such a good mood that day that he gave Cas the photo to take home and give to his mother. Looking back, Dean realised that this was probably just to make Naomi feel better about her 'darling Cas' being friends with someone like Dean. He couldn't believe that Cas had kept the photo to this day. In fact, he'd thought that Naomi would have found it ripped it up. She'd never really liked Dean, nor his family. She'd seen Dean as a 'bad influence' on Cas due to his less-privileged, poorer background. She believed that all children needed a mother and a father to be brought up well, and that the fact that John hadn't remarried was awful and irresponsible. How ironic, when considering the unavailability of information about Castiel's father on his school record. He wondered why that was.

Dean flicked through the album, seeing only pictures that Castiel had presumably taken as a child of flowers and toys. He then placed the album back in the box and and walked downstairs, where approximately zero pictures of Castiel's father could be found. Dean found it odd that there was absolutely no evidence Naomi's prized husband, whom she used to habitually flaunt at every school function back in North Carolina. Maybe they'd separated.

But Dean didn't have much time to ponder over this, as he suddenly heard the scratching of a key in the lock of the front door. Dammit! They were coming back! He raced upstairs and had only just reached the top when the door opened to reveal the authoritative tones of Naomi Novak telling her kids not to make a mess on the newly-carpeted hallway. Dean tiptoed discreetly towards Gabe's room, slid through the open window and scrambled frantically down the tree before vaulting back over the fence and sprinting to his car at the end of the street.

He sighed as he felt relief enshroud him and sweat drip down his forehead. As Dean went to wipe his face whilst he started driving, he noticed that he was no longer wearing his hat. 'Crap!' he thought as he realised that he must have lost it at some point during his departure. Thankfully, the hat didn't have his name in it, but it did provide further evidence of a break-in as Dean hadn't had time to clear up the dirt he'd left in Gabe's room. He hadn't even discovered anything particularly substantial about Castiel. All he knew was that Cas had kept their picture, his family seemed to have forgotten his father, and he had been with a strikingly-attractive boy on March 16th of this year.

'Snap out of it, Dean.' he scalded himself, 'You don't find him _attractive_. He's a guy and you're straight. You're just appreciating that you'd like to look like him, too. I mean, who wouldn't?'

Dean sighed. Castiel's return had stirred up some old emotions which he thought he'd never have to face again. Obviously, he was wrong.


End file.
